


Whatever You Want to Be

by Impala_Chick



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Boys Kissing, Canonical Character Death, Competence Kink, Episode: s03e12-13 The Coming of Arthur, Evil Morgana (Merlin), Feelings Realization, M/M, Magic Revealed, Morgana and Morgause die, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:26:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23695384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Chick/pseuds/Impala_Chick
Summary: Arthur, and those that were hiding out with him in the caves, are captured by scouts and dragged back to Camelot. Morgana sets Arthur's public execution into motion to solidify her rule. But her plans are thwarted when Merlin reveals his magic.After the dust settles, Arthur can't deny that his feelings about magic, and about Merlin, have changed.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 42
Kudos: 696
Collections: Merthur Glompfest 2020





	Whatever You Want to Be

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afreezingnote](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afreezingnote/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [afreezingnote](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afreezingnote/pseuds/afreezingnote) in the [Merthur_Glompfest_2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Merthur_Glompfest_2020) collection. 



> Thanks so much for this super fun prompt! I hope I did it justice. 
> 
> **Prompt (shortened):** A magic reveal with BAMF!Merlin having an epic showdown with Morgana, saving Arthur, and helping however else he can to reclaim the kingdom. After the dust settles, Merlin isn't sure what to expect from Arthur. A declaration of love (immediate or eventual, author's choice) never crossed his mind.

Guards push Arthur up the dungeon stairs with his wrists still bound behind his back. He has to keep his eyes on the stone steps to prevent himself from slipping. One of Cenred’s immortal soldiers leads the way, while two others march behind him with their swords drawn. None of them bother saying a word. After all, Arthur already knows where they are heading. 

Yesterday, when he was thrown in the dungeon by Cenred’s men, he’d caught a glimpse of his father, restrained in the cell next to his. The thick stone walls made it nearly impossible for them to speak to each other, so Arthur had spent the night looking out the dungeon window watching as soldiers in black tunics prepared the pire. 

They’d come for his father already. Uther was hauled up the stairs wearing nothing but a servant’s tunic and plain brown pants. The sight of him like that had been more shocking than anything Arthur had seen from his cell window. Uther’s shoulders had been hunched over and he looked so small. He barely glanced at Arthur before disappearing up the stairs and out of Arthur’s view.

Morgana had not come to see him, even though he had expected her to. Whether it was because Morgana was afraid to feel sympathy for him or just had nothing to say, Arthur would never know.

The harsh light of day assails Arthur as he emerges from under the castle. There’s a huge crowd of citizens gathered around. Many make eye contact with him as he is marched forward towards the pire. The people he makes eye contact with look sullen and somber, and the entire square is quiet, like Camelot is holding its breath. 

The crowd parts, and then Arthur sees a line of soldiers. They all wear the black tunics with the twisted red tree on the front. Arthur doesn’t know what the tree is supposed to mean, but it does look menacing. Once he’s manhandled to the left side of the pire, he notices his father. 

Two guards are holding Uther’s shoulders down, keeping him on his knees. He looks up, meeting Arthur’s eyes for only a fleeting moment before he hangs his head in defeat. He must know that he’s been brought out to the square in order to watch Arthur die. Next to him, guards are holding Leon’s shoulders and his hands are tied in front of him. Guinevere and Gwaine are similarly tied up. Guinevere and Leon had worked so hard to reach him, and Arthur let them down. None of them deserve to die this way, and yet he suspects their fate is sealed in smoke and flame already.

When they were all captured in that ravine, there was no chance of escape. Arthur, Leon, and Gwaine couldn't fight an enemy that could not be killed. Once they were ambushed, it was clear to Arthur then that they would lose, and yet seeing his friends lined up now makes it much more real. Arthur’s chest burns with the pain of regret and guilt.

He’s thankful that Merlin and Gaius aren’t among them, at least. He’d made Gaius hide in the cave, and he had not been able to find Merlin when they’d left. He has to hold onto the hope that at least they got away.

Arthur surveys the courtyard, but he doesn’t see anyone else that he recognizes. He could potentially get free of his captures, but any of the nearby soldiers could easily run him through with their swords. If he did manage to escape, his hands are still bound. He’d have to run without the use of his hands through a line of immortal soldiers, all with swords at the ready. He would never be able to get to any of his friends in time to free them.

He briefly debates whether it is better to be run through a sword vice being burned at the stake, but at this point that seems like the cowardly way out. 

He shakes his head, and remembers who has put him in this position. Who has put them all in this position. Morgana.

If she has any sympathy left for Arthur, she will at least feel some pain at his suffering. He decides he’s going to make her watch him burn.

He’d always thought he knew Morgana well. They grew up together. She’d always been cunning and thoughtful, willing to consider the big picture but equally willing to act quickly when the mood struck her. She always burned bright, and made heads turn in any room she entered. She used to be the person Arthur told his darkest secrets to, the person who he considered his equal in all things. She was also the only person who he could discuss Uther with, as it would have been completely inappropriate to complain about the King with anyone else.

When the guards turn Arthur around to look up at the balcony where Morgana stands, he does not recognize her. 

She’s wearing the crown of the Queen of Camelot, the one Arthur knows his mother used to wear. Her black hair is flowing out behind her and she has a white gown on that glitters in the sunlight. She looks otherworldly, even with the ugly grimace on her face.

She nods to the guards, who pull Arthur backwards up the ramp to the platform around the pire. Instead of untying his hands, they push him against the stake and wrap ropes around his shoulders, torso, knees, and ankles.

He doesn’t even bother testing the strength of the knots. He keeps his eyes on the balcony. Morgause is at Morgana's side with a serene smile on her face. Arthur knows that Morgause has been a crucial player in facilitating Morgana’s victory, and that she is undoubtedly someone who is single-minded in her goals. She does not care what means are used to achieve her ends.

And yet, Arthur feels nothing towards Morgause, not even anger. He knows that even though Morgause is a powerful sorceress, there is nothing she could have done to force Morgana to make the choices she’s made. No one could make Morgana do this if she did not desire it. Morgana had to have arrived at this place of her own volition.

This is Morgana’s fault alone, and Arthur blames her.

Morgana leans forward and grips the parapet. Her rich, commanding voice washes over the crowd as she begins to speak. 

“Camelot. Today marks the beginning of a new era. Magic users will no longer be forced into the shadows, forced to fear for their own lives. Magic users deserve reparations for all of the crimes against them and their families. And I will make that happen today.”

Arthur is struck by how much she sounds like a Queen. Like she was born to play this role. Her voice sounds every bit as angry and confident as Uther. Arthur was a fool not to realize her true relationship to Uther. Uther had been foolish to keep it from them both, too.

“Uther will watch as his chosen heir pays the price for the dark and treacherous path Uther chose. From this day forward, there is no claim to the throne but the righteous one. The one that embraces magic.”

The way Morgana avoids saying Arthur’s name is proof enough to Arthur that she does not enjoy what is about to happen. But if Arthur was in her place, and he was forced to hide his true identity and live as a ward instead of as a Prince, he wonders if he wouldn’t make the same exact decision. There is no use pondering what-ifs now, though. He can only retain his dignity, and accept that fate has made its decision.

A voice rises up from the crowd. A voice Arthur knows very well.

“Don’t do it.”

Arthur turns his head as much as he can towards the voice.

Merlin, in his simple brown servant’s trousers and blue tunic, is standing next to the soldier with the lit torch. 

Just Merlin, against an army of immortal soldiers and Queen Morgana herself.

No one breathes and it’s deadly silent for a moment. Arthur assumes that everyone is as shocked as he feels.

Merlin isn’t looking at him, but at Morgana. His chin is up in defiance, and his eyes are narrowed at her. It’s foolish and stupid and rash for him to seem so confident, because there is no way Merlin can alter the course of what is about to happen alone. He’s exposed himself when Arthur had hoped he would remain free and safe. He had come back when any sane person should have run away.

And yet, Arthur isn’t angry.

He’s proud. Equally terrified, too. Because Merlin has effectively sealed his own fate. But proud nonetheless, because in Arthur’s darkest hour, Merlin chose to return to Camelot. And to return to Arthur.

“Stand down now and I may yet spare your life,” Morgana says from the balcony.

Merlin squares his shoulders. “Morgana, you have no idea what I’m capable of.”

Merlin does look at Arthur then, just a brief glance. His lips are pressed together and he shakes his head a little bit, like he’s sorry. Arthur wants to tell him it’s not his fault, but the words catch in his throat.

“Guards!” Morgana shouts.

The clang of metal rings out as soldiers draw their swords and advance on Merlin.

“No!” Arthur shouts. He can barely see him any more. It looks like Merlin is being engulfed by soldiers in black.

A moment later, there is a flash of bright light. The soldiers are all thrown backwards. They hit the ground with a resounding thud. 

Merlin stands alone in the epicenter of the blast. Arthur stares, not comprehending. Merlin’s eyes are glowing unnaturally gold, and his hands are raised up, but he doesn’t look defensive or scared. Instead, he looks taller than Arthur remembers him. His shoulders are straight and he’s holding himself up stiffly, his bright eyes blazing. He looks like a warrior. Arthur’s breath catches in his throat.

“You can’t be!” Morgana shouts. Arthur turns at the sound of her voice and watches her flee from the balcony. 

Merlin looks over at Arthur. His lips are moving, but he must be whispering because Arthur cannot hear what he says. The ropes that bind Arthur to the stake fall away and Arthur looks down at himself in amazement. He looks around the square, even though he already knows he will see no sorcerers there. It had to have been Merlin who freed him with his words and his glowing eyes.

Merlin knows magic. 

But Arthur knows Merlin. He has known him for _years_. He’s no sorcerer. He must have learned that spell just to come here and rescue Arthur. 

Morgana appears then, running through the square. People jump apart to make way for her, cowering from the mutinous tension that radiates from her. Her hair and her cloak whip behind her like thunder and she looks terrifying.  
Arthur jumps into motion and casts around frantically for a sword, but there isn’t a soldier close enough to him to procure a weapon in time.

He’s going to have to reason with Morgana instead. He hurriedly scrambles down from the pire, but he’s too late. Morgana is already there, striding right past him.

Towards Merlin.

“You had magic! All this time!” Morgana screams at Merlin, her eyes blazing golden as well. 

It feels as if a heavy stone is sinking in Arthur’s gut. Morgana is about to make Merlin pay giving one final, valiant attempt to free Arthur. Without thinking, Arthur runs to jump in between them.

He finds himself frozen mid-stride. His right foot is lifted off the ground, but he can’t move it. He can’t move any muscles at all. He can only watch in horror as Morgana creates an orange ball of fire between her hands.

“You have chosen your path, Morgana. And it is the wrong one.” Merlin speaks with authority, his voice deep and commanding. Arthur can’t help but think how remarkably brave he is. Brave, and stupid. Morgana snarls and raises her arms. Arthur wishes he could turn away. He does not want to see the moment Merlin’s life is taken -

But Morgana’s orange ball is dissipated by an icy blue spark. Arthur cannot turn his head to see Merlin’s face until Merlin starts striding toward Morgana holding blue orbs of magic in his palms. She snarls and sets her feet as the people in the square scream and scatter.  
If Arthur could move his mouth, he would have gasped. He recognizes the orbs from his time in the cave, searching for the Mortaeus flower. 

“I am a high priestess. You cannot hope to defeat me with your paltry party tricks,” she says. Her eyes blaze with fire, and then she starts hurling her magic at Merlin. 

Morgause rushes into the square to be at Morgana’s side. She screams her own spell, flames leaping up around her and Morgana, and encircling them in a ring of protection.

Morgana’s magic balls erupt into smoke before they can even reach Merlin. Merlin shouts down Morgause’s flames in a language that Arthur does not know. He keeps on walking right past Arthur, right through the ring of flames. Arthur can only stare at the determined set of his shoulders, as he plants his feet and throws the blue orbs at Morgause. 

She screams and crumples to the ground. Even Arthur can recognize that Merlin’s magic has dealt a killing blow. Morgana glances down and then she whips around to face Merlin, her voice contorted by her rage.

“It is not your place to kill a high priestess. You will pay the ultimate price.” Her voice sounds like ice. Arthur is sure he would have shivered from it if his body could move. But still Merlin stands, unafraid. Morgana shouts in that strange language, which Arthur realizes now must be the old religion. Merlin answers her, his voice just as powerful and just as ancient. She stumbles and falls to the ground.

If Merlin knows that language, and has enough power to knock Morgana to the ground, he is no amatuer. Arthur can recognize that much but it still makes no sense to him. Merlin must have been studying in secret, readying himself for this very moment. He must be as skilled as Morgana.

Arthur stares at the two people he thought he knew best, realizes that they are virtually complete strangers to him now. He feels so lost in that moment.

Arthur can’t spare much thought to his confusion, though, because to his horror Morgana is standing up again.

Merlin moves his hands to his waist, and that’s when Arthur notices the gold and silver sword hanging from Merlin’s belt. 

He unsheathes his gleaming sword and advances to Morgana with it held out. The hilt is brown and gold, and it has gold markings on the blade, and Arthur is transfixed by it. It is unlike any sword Arthur has ever seen. Morgana doesn’t seem too alarmed until the tip of it plunges into her chest. She gasps in surprise.

Merlin thrusts it downward and pushes Morgana back to the ground with the sword still embedded in her chest. Blood gurgles out from the wound and Merlin leans down to say something to her that Arthur cannot hear. 

Merlin pulls the sword from her and then falls to his knees as the fight drains out of him. 

Arthur wants to go to Merlin, to tell him he had no other choice, to do _something_. But his body is still frozen. He thought that Morgana had done this to him, and he thought the spell would be broken once the sword pierced her. Arthur cannot quite believe Morgana is gone, even though he understands now that one of them had to die, so he tries to focus on anything besides Morgana's limp body. 

As Arthur strains internally against his invisible bonds, he sees the immortal soldiers crumpling to the ground and turning to dust. The whole square erupts in joy and relief as the people that hadn’t already fled cheer and clap. That seems to spur Merlin into action once more. He stands and turns to Arthur. His eyes blaze gold, and then Arthur’s right foot drops down to the ground. 

It was Merlin who had frozen him, and kept him out of the fight. 

Arthur feels overwhelmed with confusion and shock, not sure how to comprehend everything that has happened.

But he runs to Merlin anyway. 

He can see tears on Merlin’s cheeks once he gets closer. He falls to his knees and pulls Merlin into a hug, just to feel his heart beating and his breath against Arthur’s neck.

“Thank you,” is all Arthur can say as he pulls back.

And then Gwaine and Leon and Guinevere are upon them, cheering and hugging Merlin.

“You’re a hero!” Guinevere says as she touches Merlin’s cheek. 

“Indeed,” Gwaine says, slapping Merlin on the back. Leon runs to Uther and unties the ropes at his wrists. 

Arthur dutifully gets up and goes to help his father by putting a guiding hand at his elbow. He looks utterly destroyed, his gaze hollow and his skin pale. 

“Morgana is dead?” he croaks, quiet enough so that only Arthur can hear.

Arthur nods. “It was the only way, Father.” Arthur believes that to be true, but even as he says them they offer no comfort to him or to Uther. Morgana has brought great pain with magic and had chosen her side. And yet, Arthur never would have wished for her to die. Uther starts to weep, his shoulders heaving as he turns away from Morgana’s body.

Arthur holds him as they both sink to the ground. Arthur doesn’t cry, feeling completely numb. His body shakes with tension and adrenaline. After all, it was only moments ago when Arthur fully expected to die from a blazing inferno.

After a moment, a hand on his shoulder makes him look up.

“Sire, maybe we should go to the castle.” It’s Leon, his eyes sympathetic. 

Arthur nods and gets up again, fighting the bone deep exhaustion that has set in. He practically has to drag his father up with him. Leon takes his right elbow, Arthur takes his left, and they walk out of the square and up the stone steps of the castle. He can hear the people of Camelot cheering and calling out to them, but he can barely hear them. His ears feel as if they are stuffed with cloth. Leon is murmuring something soothing to the King, but Arthur cannot comprehend the words.

That’s when he notices Lancelot rushing down the stairs with a very large man in tow. Behind the mystery giant is Gaius, with a gold cup held aloft.

“The cup of life?” Arthur whispers, shocked.

Lancelot runs up to Arthur and Uther, bowing slightly. He’s got the biggest grin on his face, which reminds Arthur just what Merlin has accomplished.

Camelot is theirs again. He should be proud. But there are a million emotions swirling through him and all he can manage as Lancelot shakes his hand is a small smile and a nod. 

Lancelot rushes past him to greet Merlin and the others. Gaius nods to Uther and claps Arthur on the shoulder before going down the stairs with the gold cup in his hand. Arthur glances over his shoulder at Merlin, who is running up to hug Gaius. Lancelot, Gwaine, and Guinevere are huddled around them at the bottom of the stairs. Their voices are too low for Arthur to hear them.

It bolsters Arthur’s spirits to see the people he cares about most alive and well. But he still feels untethered, like this new reality makes no sense. In this reality, Morgana is gone. And Merlin has magic.

Arthur doesn’t know how to come to terms with any of that, yet. So he compartmentalizes. One thing at a time. First, get Uther to his bed.

He and Leon bring Uther to his room. Arthur helps him get into bed and holds him as he cries into Arthur’s shoulder.

Arthur feels drained. He’s never seen his father so much as shed a tear, but Uther openly weeps for what feels like hours. 

Arthur knows there’s still work to be done, so he stays focused on that. 

Once he extricates himself from Uther, he goes in search of Leon. He finds him in the throne room, with Gwaine, Lancelot, Elyan, Guinevere, and the large man that had come with Lancelot. 

Gwaine has his hip leaning against the short side of the table. Leon is seated next to Elyan and Guinevere, and Lancelot and his large friend are pacing in front of the table. They both stop and stand up straight when Arthur walks in.

“This is Percival, Sire,” Lancelot says with a shy grin when he notices Arthur looking at the stranger.

“Thank you for your help today, Percival,” Arthur says as he sticks out his hand for the large man to shake.

Arthur takes a deep breath and feels all eyes in the room settle on him, waiting for him to say something. But he searches out Merlin’s gaze. He’s leaning against a column to the right of the throne, trying to feign casual body language.

Arthur knows there is a better time and place for him to sort everything out in his head, but a rush of thoughts swamp him. He should be angry with Merlin for hiding things from him, from practicing magic right under his nose, and for killing Morgana when he is the one with the duty to protect Camelot. And he _is_ angry about those things. He’s terrified by Merlin’s obvious power, too. After all, he’d seen Merlin strike down two powerful sorcerers when he’d never even seen Merlin raise his hand against another man or woman in the three years he'd known him. But he cannot deny that Merlin is the very reason they are all able to stand in the throne room now, victorious. 

He breaks eye contact with Merlin to address the rest of the room. 

“You all have been invaluable to Camelot, and for that I owe you so much more than I could ever give. But at least you shall be named Knights of Camelot.” 

He notices Lancelot smile brightly and glance over at Guinevere. Leon is grinning, too.

“Your first duty is to help me devise a plan to bring aid to those who need it and begin Camelot’s recovery.”

Percival looks a little shocked, but the rest of the group nods in agreement. Everyone except Gwaine, who is squinting at Arthur with pursed lips, obviously displeased.

“What is it, Gwaine?” Arthur says, worried.

Gwaine uncrosses his arms and stands up straight. “It's about Merlin. We want to know how you feel about his magic.”

Arthur darts his eyes over to Merlin, who opens and closes his mouth with an eyebrow raised. He must not have expected Gwaine to bring him up.

“I, uh. What do you mean?” Arthur flounders. His mind trips over admissions he’d made to himself, about how they all owe Merlin a great debt. But he didn’t plan on speaking of such things yet, not until he’s had time to think about what exactly he wants to say.

Gwaine forges ahead. “Will you sentence him to death? Will you let Uther do so? You have to know that we’d -” 

Arthur gapes in horror before promptly cutting Gwaine off with a raised hand.

“I would never allow that to happen. He is the one person who saved Camelot. Merlin’s heroism has not gone unnoticed.” Arthur looks right at Merlin when he speaks, hoping that his words will suffice for the time being. He has so much more to say, but he is not ready yet for any more admissions.

The corner of Merlin’s lips curl up in a smile, his eyes bright. “Well, I had help.” Merlin nods at Lancelot and Percival. Neither speak, but they are both smiling.

“Great,” Gwaine says with a smile as he walks up and claps Arthur on the shoulder. “I hoped you’d say that.”

After that, they all sit down and get to the business of restoring Camelot to her former glory. Arthur lets his gaze wander up to meet Merlin’s eyes occasionally. He’s surprised to find Merlin looking steadily back at him in a way he never would have before.

Things have shifted between them, and Merlin seems to know it. They are closer to equals than they’ve ever been before, now that Arthur understands the full extent of his power. It’s not an entirely unpleasant feeling, realizing that Merlin could have done whatever he wanted and instead has chosen to use his power to serve Camelot. And Arthur.

&

Later, Leon explains to him how Lancelot and Percival found Merlin, who had gone to retrieve a magical sword. They concocted a plan with Gaius to sneak into Camelot and overturn the cup of life. It turned out to be a very effective plan only because Merlin stepped in with his magic. Arthur avoids speaking with Merlin for days, not sure that he knows how best to show his gratitude without divulging his confusing feelings. Some mornings Arthur just lays in bed, picturing Morgana’s enraged face, and then Merlin wielding his powerful magic to destroy her. He feels grief over the loss of Morgana, which only compounds Arthur’s guilt over the fact that Merlin had to protect Camelot when Arthur could not.

He also feels abandoned by his father, who has refused to make public appearances or aid with the recovery, and seems to be constantly grieving. 

But he also lets himself feel other things. 

Arthur can’t deny that he thinks about Merlin differently now. Seeing him so confident and so powerful made Arthur feel something like admiration. 

Days later, Arthur finally gets up the nerve to talk to Merlin about it. After a day full of interacting with people demanding the Regent of Camelot's attention, Arthur takes off his cloak and his armor himself. He lets the great responsibility of the throne sit discarded on the table with his armor. 

Merlin must expect Arthur to continue to avoid talking to him, because he barely nods in greeting when he walks into Arthur's chambers. He pauses when he notices that Arthur’s already taken off his armor. 

“Am I late, Sire?” Merlin asks carefully. He hardly ever calls Arthur ‘sire’, so he’s either uncomfortable or expecting Arthur to be angry with him.

Arthur sighs and sits down in the big wooden chair at the end of the table. 

“Merlin, I know I’ve been distant -”

Merlin hastily cuts him off, his voice sounding irritated. “No, no. I understand why you’ve been avoiding me. It can’t be easy having me around, after you saw what I can do.” 

Arthur looks up at him. He’s staring steadily at the ground with his arms at his sides. He looks resigned, like he’s been waiting for Arthur to pass judgment. 

Arthur doesn’t get up from his chair because he doesn’t want to crowd Merlin or make him feel smaller. So he stays put even though he wants to reach out and touch.

“I’m not angry or upset with you. I just wanted to tell you that I’m proud of what you did.”

Merlin looks up at him with his eyes blazing. “Which part are you proud of, Arthur? The part where I killed your half sister, or wielded forbidden magic? I’m going to need you to be a bit more specific.” He speaks slowly, his words mired in sarcasm.

Arthur grips his own thighs, feeling vaguely put out but trying to be understanding of Merlin's annoyance. “I’m glad you saved Camelot, Merlin. And I understand why Morgana had to… Why that had to happen. She had chosen her side. I am grateful to you for saving us. I haven’t said that to you before, but at least I’m saying it now.” 

Merlin crosses his arms, still looking slightly agitated. “But that’s not enough, is it? You don’t trust me now.”

“What?” Arthur feels genuinely confused. 

Merlin takes a deep breath and spreads his arms out wide. “You treat me differently. It’s like you don’t even want to be in the same room as me. I can use my magic to save all of Camelot, but you wouldn’t want any of my magic to rub off on you. You can’t stand being around someone with magic, is that it?”

Merlin’s voice gets high-pitched by the end of his rant and his chest rises and falls with each heavy breath he takes. 

Arthur can’t sit back any longer. He bolts up out of his chair and grabs Merlin’s arm.

“That’s not it at all. Listen to me. I don’t care that you have magic,” Arthur says as he shakes Merlin’s arm, trying to get him to understand. 

Merlin raises an eyebrow and squints his eyes, like Arthur’s the one who is spouting nonsense.

“I don’t! I mean, I do. But not for the reasons you’re thinking,” Arthur adds hastily. 

“And what am I thinking? You better explain, because I have no idea what you’re on about.” Merlin steps up until he’s nearly chest to chest with Arthur, and Arthur flounders for a moment.

“I was avoiding you, but it’s not because I despise your magic. It’s the opposite.” Arthur takes a shaky breath, but he can’t look away from Merlin’s bright blue eyes.

“I’m sorry. The opposite?” Merlin presses. But the corner of his lip quirks up into a smile, and Arthur notices the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. 

“You must know by now,” Arthur says faintly, his fingers tightening around Merlin’s arm involuntarily. 

“But I want to hear you say it,” Merlin presses, his voice suddenly soft.

“Fine. I thought you looked beautiful wielding such power. It took me awhile to come to terms with that, but it’s true.”

Merlin is looking at him now with astonishment written all over his face. Arthur gently tugs him forward and rests his forehead against Merlin’s, relishing the way Merlin’s arms _finally_ circle his waist.

“Are you saying, after all this time -” 

“Yes, Merlin. You cannot be just a servant any longer. Camelot owes you too much. _I_ owe you,” Arthur says. He keeps his eyes on Merlin’s plush pink lips, enjoying the way Merlin’s lithe body feels pressed up against him.

“So what am I, then?” Merlin asks, his voice steady.

“Whatever you want to be,” Arthur says. It’s easy to close the scant distance between them to bring their lips together, so Arthur quits holding himself back.

It’s like all the pieces slide into place at once. Merlin surges into the kiss, his lips moist and his tongue eager to explore. Arthur gasps against his mouth, surprised and turned on in equal measure. 

“I thought you’d never,” Merlin says on a shaky exhale, before he brings their lips together again.

Arthur can’t form words, not when he’d rather be pressing as close to Merlin as he can, cherishing the intoxicating taste of his mouth.

He pushes Merlin up against the table and brackets him between his arms. Merlin gives way easily, but doesn’t break the kiss. Merlin tilts his head to gain better access to Arthur's mouth, and Arthur’s toes curl in his boats.

If magic is what it took to get them both to this place, Arthur cannot help but see the good in it. And he wants the opportunity to get to know _this_ Merlin, the one who is competent and confident and _magical_.

“Please,” Arthur moans. “Let me court you.”

Merlin laughs against his mouth, a beautiful and carefree sound. Arthur’s heart soars for what feels like the first time in months.


End file.
